looking, hoping, searching
by AtLoLevad
Summary: While looking for the Metas, Bruce and Diana become closer. Post BvS, pre JL.
1. Chapter 1

Hunting down Metas is hard work, Bruce and Diana come to learn.

Their three - not targets, that sounds too harsh- persons of interest, Barry Allen, Arthur Curry, and Vic Stone, do not want to be found easily. Especially Arthur Curry.

Even Barry Allen, the first one they find, is well hidden.

Bruce travels far and wide, searching. Diana travels too, looking, hoping, searching. But she also stays behind, combing through Luthor's files.

If all they had to do was search for these Metas, it would be easy.

But Bruce Wayne has an entire company to keep afloat, an entire city to protect nightly.

But Diana Prince has a job that she needs to keep, a job that helps her search for the Metas, a job that sends her to far flung places of the Earth looking for antiques, artifacts from other words. Diana Prince also has Metropolis, her adopted city, and a city she protects because they couldn't save Superman.

Bruce and Diana run themselves ragged searching and protecting. Even Diana's Amazonian constitution can't save her from the sheer exhaustion that comes from traveling daily between Gotham and Metropolis, not to mention the traveling she does to other areas of the world.

Bruce, though he hates to admit it, is old. He is older than when he took up the cowl, older since Superman sacrificed himself, older, older, older. He's tired, resolute in his mission, but tired. Without Diana, Bruce thinks, this would not be happening.

A lot of things would not be happening without Diana, Bruce sighs and shifts in his chair.

"Nothing." Speak of the Devil, or demigoddess, in her case.

Bruce swivels in the chair and looks at her, a frown already on his face. "Nothing?"

"I do not think Arthur Curry wants to be found," Diana murmurs, sitting down on the chair Bruce had brought to the monitoring station when she joined his search. She rolls her neck and stretches her shoulders before pulling her legs up onto the seat.

Bruce practically growls, "He'll be found. He has to be somewhere."

Diana smirks at Bruce's display. She has been around him long enough that his mood changes don't bother her, much.

"Do you have a backup plan, Bruce?" She asks after a few beats of silence. She knows he doesn't, knows finding these Metas is his first and only plan.

Bruce looks away quickly, runs a hand over his face, sighs. Diana waits.

"No," he admits reluctantly to a woman who is, for all intents and purposes, a near stranger. Sure, he knows her big secret, her Themyscira origins. He knows bits about her life as Diana Prince. But he doesn't know much more.

What scares him is how badly he wants to know more.

He hasn't felt this way about a woman since, well, since Selina. After how badly that ended, Bruce isn't sure he wants to get involved. He knows he shouldn't get involved, knows happily ever after isn't in his future, knows he doesn't deserve it, not after Jason. But he's only human and he can't _help_ but enjoy the time he spends with Diana.

"What do you think we will need them for?" Diana asks, thinking about the 'feeling' Bruce mentioned back in Smallville. She knew, immediately, that it was a lie, but she supposed, all men and women need secrets. She certainly had her own.

Bruce gives her a long look, an appraising look. A lesser woman might've shrunk back under his intense scrutiny, but Diana is a princess, an Amazon. She sits calmly, watching the monitors.

"I had a..." Bruce starts slowly, hesitantly, in a tone Diana has yet to hear from him. "Dream, premonition, vision? I'm not sure. But I saw him," Bruce jabs his index finger at Barry Allen's photo up on one of the monitors, "and he said I had to find them. Him and Curry and Stone."

His shoulders sag and he looks grim.

Diana opens her mouth to reply, but Bruce cuts her off, "I don't know what's coming, what waits for us in the future, but I know it won't be good."

"And we will need as many Metas on our side as possible," Diana finishes, an equally grim look on her pretty features.

Bruce nods. They're quiet for a while, the reality of their situation sinking in. Both can't help but think that this might be easier with Superman by their side.

Diana yawns a little, her last trip from Metropolis catching up to her.

Looking at her out of the corner of his eye, Bruce stands, "I think we both need some food and sleep."

He sticks out his hand for Diana to take. She studies it and him curiously before placing her small hand in his large, warm one.

"I think that is a wonderful idea," she says, the corner of her lips lifting in jest at her intentional pun.

Bruce smirks crookedly and Diana's stomach swoops, a not unfamiliar sensation since she's been around the Bat of Gotham.

"Good one, Princess."

* * *

 _A/N: Um, so, this is new for me. I've always liked Batman and I've always liked Wonder Woman, I just never thought to put them together until I saw Batman v Superman the other night. And so down the rabbit hole I went._

 _This is sometime between BvS and JL, while they're looking for the Metas. After they find Barry, but before they find Vic and Arthur. So in like a year this will all be AU, but for now, it's just fun spec lol._

 _This is probably *supremely* out of character, but, in my defense, I've literally never written these two before. Any and all constructive criticism is welcome. Prompts too! I'll take those any day!_

 _Let me know what you think! :)_


	2. Chapter 2

Because of the nature of their jobs, weeks can sometimes pass without Bruce and Diana ever laying eyes on each other. For that reason, Bruce gives Diana access to the BatCave, so she can continue their search without him or Alfred having to let her in. It helps, having her continue the search when he can't. She's stumbled on a few promising leads when alone.

He doesn't give away access to his sanctuary readily, but...he trusts Diana. They've been searching for Metas for months now and God help him, he trusts her. He knows she won't use his tech for bad, won't fry his computers, won't steal from him. (Well...he _had_ stolen from Lex first.)

Despite the darkness and the cold breeze in the Cave, so different from her home, Diana doesn't mind being there. She likes all the computers and monitors, likes learning how to use them. She likes Bruce's training set up (even if she has had to replace a punching bag or two). When she's not in Metropolis, she likes sitting in the Cave, looking at a different city, from a different perspective.

On more than one occasion, Diana has glimpsed a blur of black on one of the monitors. The Bat of Gotham protecting his city.

She can't help herself; she watches. He is near silent and so agile for such a hulking mortal. Diana knows she is 6 feet tall, but Bruce has a few inches on her. Just enough that she is eye level with his lips.

A smirk plays on her lips tonight as she watches Bruce send a Batarang whizzing just to the left of a criminal's head. He shows off sometimes. Whether it is because he knows she is watching or for his own amusement, she's not sure. If she had to guess, Diana would say it was for Bruce's own amusement.

Bruce, she has learned, has a peculiar sense of humor.

She rolls her eyes at the trembling coward of a criminal on the screen and reaches down to adjust the Ace bandage wrapped around her ankle. Earlier in Metropolis, she had shattered it, the bone snapping in pieces. That was part of the reason she was in the BatCave tonight. Rather than going to a hospital she had come to see if Alfred would patch her up. The ankle would heal quickly, it just needed immobilizing.

(Alfred had been happy to see her, fetching her tea and some cookies before he reset and wrapped the injury.

"I'm sorry to inconvenience you, Alfred," she had said, testing her weight on the ankle. It hurt, but held up.

He'd waved off her concern with a polite snort, "I've seen much worse from Master Bruce, Miss Diana. And you are much more agreeable than he is when it comes to tending to wounds."

Diana had laughed, because of course Bruce hated to be patched up.)

Diana's attention is sidetracked for a little bit, catching on a different monitor. She leans forward, putting just too much pressure on her shattered ankle and furiously prays to her gods that they have just gotten a break on Curry or Stone's location. No, she slumps back in the seat, dejected, just a bank robbery in progress.

She debates ignoring her ankle and suiting up to help Bruce, but she knows he will be furious with her. That had been a condition. Bruce Wayne and Diana Prince could be seen in public together or Batman and Wonder Woman could. He hadn't wanted any villains out there to wonder why the Bat was suddenly working with another superhero after decades alone.

She had chosen the former, figuring it would be easier.

And for the most part it is. Their real identities overlap considerably in the posh circle Bruce is forced to frequent.

And then sometimes she thinks she's chosen wrong, that she should be out there helping him. Tonight is one of those nights.

She winces as a bullet slams into his Kevlar suit. Her heart thuds once, twice, three times in her chest when a grenade lights up the screen. During minutes that pass like hours while the dust and debris clear, it feels like her stomach is in knots. Her fingers white knuckle the arm rests, only loosening when Bruce's dark figure appears on screen.

"Hera," she snaps, a hand over head heart. Stupid man.

Stupid Diana for her overreaction to this man.

She tells herself it is because she needs help in searching for the Metas, help to understand what is coming next, that her heart isn't pounding because he could have died.

Diana tells herself a lot of things.

Once she's sure Bruce is okay, she forces herself to look away from the screens that Batman pops up on. She settles comfortably into the chair and watches the screens lazily. The night is quiet after the foiled bank robbery.

She falls asleep.

* * *

Bruce is already peeling off his cowl before he's properly in the BatCave. He makes a half-hearted effort to smash down the inevitable cowl-hair that occurs at the end of each patrol. It doesn't work, as usual, and he catches a glimpse of his reflection, scowling at the hair that sticks up at odd angles. He's tired and sore and really just wants to sleep before he has to get up at an ungodly hour to be at Wayne Enterprises.

He's stripped down to his pants and a grey t-shirt when he sees her.

Diana, curled up in a chair with her black hair tied up in a loose ponytail, fast asleep and, Bruce almost grins, snoring. One hand is tucked under her cheek and the other has a loose grip on the armrest. Both of her legs are tucked under her.

He quietly swaps out his boots for a pair of sneakers and cautiously steps over to Diana and her chair. Bruce has no qualms about waking Diana up from a nap. He's done it what feels like a million times before. And now that he knows how to wake her up without getting thrown clear across the room, he really doesn't mind the task. But before he can say her name and rest a hand on her shoulder, he catches sight of her wrapped ankle, the bruise that travels up her shin and calf.

Bruce knows the Amazonian needs more sleep when she's working to heal an injury. He shouldn't wake her. And that's the only reason why he gently, so very gently, hooks an arm under her knees and around her back to cradle her to his chest. She smells like the ocean and metal and something that Bruce can't quite place.

She must be tired since she doesn't immediately wake and punch him in the face. Bruce considers it a minor victory. He carries her through the Cave, regulating his own breathing so she doesn't feel the hitch in his breath when she stirs.

"Bruce?" she murmurs, still in a state of half-sleep. He can feel her muscles tensing under his grip, ready to attack.

"Yeah," he replies quietly, his voice still gravelly. "You fell asleep. I'm putting you in one of the guest rooms."

"You'd better," she threatens, eyes still shut.

"I'm not Kent, but I would never put a woman in my bed unless she wanted to be there," Bruce says firmly, strangely hurt that she might think so little of him.

She yawns and curls into his chest. His pants, already tight, grow even more uncomfortable.

"Good," she sighs, lazily patting his chest, "because I could kill you, if I wanted."

Bruce grins.

* * *

 _A/N: Wow! Thank you so much for the awesome response to the first chapter! I'm super grateful! I decided to turn this into a sort of mini series of moments between Bruce and Diana between BvS and JL._

 _I'm sure they're still a little OOC, but I've been brushing up on my Bats and Wondy characterization :)_

 _Let me know what you all think! :)_


	3. Chapter 3

Diana has an apartment in Metropolis now. It's small, very ordinary, since she only spends short amounts of time there, but it's hers.

Metropolis has become her adopted home. She misses Themyscira, misses her mother and her sisters, but Metropolis is not so bad. She feels so much guilt about Clark Kent's death, about leaving Metropolis without their Superman. Helping them as Wonder Woman relives some of her guilt.

She and Bruce seem to have more in common than she thought.

Of course, seeing the shrines and memorials to Superman around the city are painful, even though she barely knew the man. Just another reminder of her failure, of the failure of man.

Diana also really likes the iced mochas at Jittery Javas, the coffee shop right next to her apartment. She'll easily suck down two or three a day and hates when she has to leave one behind to fight a criminal.

Now, Diana practically spits the drink out of her mouth.

"I'm sorry?" she chokes, wiping at her mouth with a napkin.

Lois Lane smiles at her from across the table and mops up the small puddle of coffee, "Are you dating Bruce Wayne?"

"No," Diana says firmly, furrowing her brow. "What on Earth would give you that idea?"

Diana considers Lois a friend, since it was Lois who helped her find the Metropolis apartment, who was supportive when Wonder Woman started picking up where Superman left off, who comes by her tiny apartment with movies and popcorn and stories about her boss, Perry White.

Pulling a glossy magazine out of her tote bag, Lois raises an eyebrow and puts the magazine down in between them, tapping on the cover with a red painted fingernail.

"This," she says simply.

Diana peers at the cover. It proclaims, in obnoxiously large and bright letters, _**Brooding Billionaire Beams Around Lady Love**_.

And sure enough, there's a picture, in surprisingly good quality, of her and Bruce at a relatively recent gala, smiles on both of their faces.

Diana groans and drops her head to the tabletop. Lois pats her arm comfortingly, "I'm going to take that reaction as a no on the romance front."

The exiled princess looks up at her friend and nods, "I did not think he would even smile, Lois. I told him a story from my childhood because he was so extra moody about the gala and the young man he couldn't save the night before. We are not dating."

Although Diana would be lying to herself if she said the picture of her and Bruce didn't send butterflies moving in her stomach. He did look _happy_ , she mused.

Lois nods and gathers the tabloid back into her bag, "That's what I thought, but you know me, i just wanted to confirm with the main source."

She laughs and sips from her own iced mocha, "Could you imagine, though? You and Bruce Wayne? Dating him must be like dating an ice block."

Lois moves on from the Bruce Wayne of it all, but Diana can't help but let her mind wander. She hasn't thought about a man in the romantic sense since Steve Trevor, and Bruce Wayne is certainly very different from Steve. Dating Bruce would be…. interesting, to say the least. But not unpleasant.

Yes, he was moody and closed off and broken. But Diana had learned he was also funny and loving to those that he let in and most importantly, he cared, deeply about his city and his company. He was gentle when he fixed her wounds and sometimes fell asleep on the floor of the BatCave with his cowl still on.

He brought flowers to his parents' graves at least twice a month and he listened when Diana spoke.

Bruce Wayne was a lot of things and Diana wasn't sure she would call him a _catch_ , but dating him certainly wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

Lois snaps her fingers in front of Diana's face, "Hey, Diana? You in there?"

"I am sorry," Diana blinks and shakes her head. "I...what were you saying?"

"Man," Lois laughs, "You were in outer space there. I said we should probably go and get some lunch. I'm starving."

Diana nods, agreeing with her friend. "A burger would be nice."

She and Lois gather their coffee debris and fall into step next to each other. Diana shortens her stride so Lois can keep up more easily. Lois smiles gratefully since she knows it can be frustrating for Diana to keep such a relatively slow pace.

"You were kind of lost in thought after I showed you that cover," Lois says. "Don't worry, I'm sure no one believes it. _Gotham Weekly_ is just a trashy tabloid."

"Mm," Diana hums noncommittally. She wonders briefly what Bruce would say if he saw the cover.

Something grouchy and caustic, she's sure. He'd probably threaten to buy the tabloid from its editors.

The thought makes her smile.

* * *

 _A/N: This one is short and probably a little out of character, but I love the idea of Lois and Diana being friends. I also have no idea where in the timeline these are all fitting in, but oh well._

 _I hope you guys are enjoying these while they last, since I start law school on Monday! I have two more ready for posting and a few more ideas I hope to write today while it rains so I can have a backlog to post from._

 _As always, drop me a review letting me know what you think and giving me any prompts you might have! I can also be found on Tumblr (thewintersoldierdisaster) for general flailing and prompting :)_


	4. Chapter 4

Bruce shouts in frustration and slams the wrench down on his worktable. His stress levels are at an all-time high and he can't seem to get his latest gadget working.

"Might I suggest some chamomile tea?" Alfred says drily, appearing over Bruce's shoulder. He's carrying a mug of tea and a stack of Gotham's weekly papers and magazines.

"Funny, Alfred," Bruce rolls his eyes, feeling like a petulant teenager. "You know I hate chamomile."

"One day you'll try it and realize that I have been right all these years," Alfred brushes off his hands and crosses his arms.

"Alfred," Bruce looks up at his de facto father and smiles, "you already know that you're right about everything. Why should I embarrass myself and admit it out loud?"

Alfred takes a sip of his own tea, "Humor me, Master Bruce."

Bruce smirks as he begins to flip through the stack of papers Alfred brought down. They sit in companionable silence for a while, Bruce occasionally passing over a section of the paper that would interest Alfred.

Alfred is happily reading the arts section of the _Gotham Times_ when the peaceful silence is broken.

"What the fuck is this?"

Alfred's head snaps up to see Bruce brandishing a glossy tabloid. The older man raises an eyebrow.

Bruce jumps up from his seat, brow furrowed and hands waving in the air.

"Romance?" He shouts, "This is what they focus on? A fabricated romance with Diana? The city is doing better than it's ever been and I get a cover because I smiled with a ... with Diana?"

Alfred smiles to himself before schooling his features into a deadpan look, "Master Bruce, it's a tabloid. They're not known for investigative journalism."

Bruce scowls, "I knew this was a mistake. I shouldn't have brought her in. I'm not broody and I'm not in a relationship with Diana. I barely like her."

Privately, Alfred believes the man doth protest too much. Out loud, he says, "Miss Diana has been a ray of light around here, Master Bruce. It most certainly was not a mistake to bring her into the fold."

"I'm not beaming either," Bruce crosses his arms defiantly.

"Of course not," Alfred says, just a shade of patronization in his tone. In fact, he'd never seen Bruce smile as much as he did when Diana Prince was around. Never.

Bruce growls at the offending cover, wadding it up into a ball and flinging it at the opposite wall. Alfred sighs. He really thought the appearance of Diana Price would be a good thing for Bruce.

"How do they get away with publishing false stories, Alfred?" Bruce frowns.

"It's a tabloid, Master Bruce," Alfred says drily, "they publish what will garner the most attention. You're no stranger to _Gotham Weekly_. I seem to recall a period of time where you were on the cover or on the inside pages every week."

Alfred knows he's baiting his charge, but he can't quite help himself.

Sure enough, Bruce's face darkens, "That's different, Alfred. That's Bruce Wayne."

"Forgive me, sir," Alfred says, "but I was under the impression that you are Bruce Wayne. All of this third person has an old man like me confused."

Bruce scoffs, "Old, my ass. You know what I mean, Alfred. Those covers and features didn't count. They were...meaningless."

Alfred remains silent, hoping Bruce will continue to elaborate. The butler is rewarded for his silence.

"I don't want Diana to think that I had something to do with this," Bruce runs a hand through his hair. "She's...she doesn't deserve to be connected to playboy Bruce Wayne."

"I think, Master Bruce, that Miss Diana knows exactly what she's getting into," Alfred chuckles.

Bruce sinks down to sit in his chair and rests his head in his hands. He groans.

"What am I getting myself into, Alfred?"

Alfred rises from his seat and claps Bruce on the shoulder, "Master Bruce, pardon my French, but I don't think you have a damn clue. Miss Diana is quite the verbal sparring partner."

With a final, significant look, Alfred leaves Bruce to his gadgetry.

Bruce calls after Alfred, "Can I buy _Gotham Weekly_?"

* * *

 _A/N: Hi guys! Sorry for the little delay, I started law school on Monday (!) so I've been a little crazy. But that was also the point of backlogging a few fics so I could post a little bit easier in the beginning._

 _Anyway, this one is sort of from Alsc on Ao3. She wanted to see Bruce and/or Alfred's response to the magazine cover Lois showed Diana in the last chapter. I thought that would be a fun chapter, so here we go._

 _Bruce and Alfred are most definitely out of character in this one, but ya know, I'm still practicing. So any and all constructive criticism is very much welcome. :)_


	5. Chapter 5

Diana rolls over in bed and watches as a burst of lightning illuminates the sky. She's in a guest bed in Wayne Manor and she's supposed to be sleeping. She and Bruce are leaving early in the morning for Smallville, or they're supposed to be leaving if the rain lets up.

It hadn't been her idea to stay at Wayne Manor, but Bruce's. He'd argued that since they were going to the Kent family farm together for the memorial, having her already at the Manor would speed everything up in the morning. Diana realizes that it's all a plot on Bruce's part to keep tabs on her, but she doesn't mind.

She knows he's paranoid and overly cautious and a *mess*. She can't fault him for wanting to keep an eye on her whereabouts. Especially since he barely knows her.

She knows he feels guilt, immense guilt, over Clark Kent's death. So she will bend to his wishes, for now, because it seems to help him to have control.

Diana rolls onto her back and counts the beats between a crack of thunder and a bolt of lightning. The storm is close.

It is late, far too late for her to still be awake, as even Amazons need sleep. But Wayne Manor is cold. Not temperature wise, in fact it may even be a little too hot in the guest room. No, the Manor gives off a cold, empty aura and it makes Diana uneasy.

It's almost like she can feel the ghosts of the Waynes around her.

Diana sits up and gathers her knees to her chest. She shivers at a particularly loud clap of thunder.

Storms haven't scared her since she was a small child. Now, as an adult, they feel almost magical. Like they're wiping the Earth clean for something new to happen. She thinks about Bruce, about the files she took from him, about Doomsday.

Something is happening and Diana is excited to be along for the ride.

She hasn't been this excited for something happening in Man's World since she met Steve Trevor and learned the ways of man.

Lightning brightens the room and Diana catches sight of her packed bags in the corner. They serve as a reminder that she has to leave in a few short hours and should be asleep.

Sighing, Diana gathers her blanket around her shoulders and slips from the bed. She needs a snack or some water; maybe that will help her sleep. She pads, silently in her socked feet, down the long, dark hallway, listening as the wind makes the old house creak.

Diana hasn't been in the Manor much and gets lost quickly.

"Hera, guide me," she mutters, brushing her hair off of her face as she pokes her head into every room she passes, looking desperately for the kitchen. Once she hits the first floor, muffled screams attract her attention.

"He wouldn't," Diana murmurs, thinking Bruce has one of Gotham's criminals here to be tortured. She keeps a hold on the blanket and follows the sounds of the screams.

Diana pauses at the entrance to a den-like room. The screams are terrifically loud, but they're not coming from a criminal.

They're coming from Bruce.

Diana bites her lip as she watches Bruce thrash on the couch, shouting and flailing. A clap of thunder makes him pause, but it's not long before he starts again. She hesitates, knowing he would hate that she's seen him like this, weak. But she can't, in good conscience, leave him here in a nightmare state.

"Bruce?" She murmurs his name, hoping it might wake him up. When it doesn't, she steps cautiously closer to the couch. His face is twisted in pain, fear, sadness.

Diana's heart breaks.

She is not used to feeling sorry for men, not used to the squeezing feeling of her heart. She hasn't known him long, but Bruce Wayne is not a bad man and he does not deserve whatever is torturing him.

She reaches out a hand and places it on his shoulder. She gasps when Bruce's eyes open, dazed and unfocused, and he grabs her wrist with an iron grip. He won't break her wrist, but it is uncomfortable.

"Bruce!" She says sharply, trying to get his attention.

He startles and blinks a few times. "Diana?"

"Could you let go of me?" She asks, her tone regal.

Bruce looks at her hand, still gripped tightly in his own and slowly relaxes his fingers. She draws her hand close to her body and nods at him.

"Sorry," he mutters hoarsely. Diana sees his eyes shutter as he closes himself off.

"Do not worry about it," she replies, softening. "Are you -" she cuts herself off. Bruce Wayne's business is none of hers.

But she can't quite leave him yet. He looks so...shaken, so unlike himself.

So she asks, "do you mind if I stay in here with you for a short while?" She adopts a faux-sheepish expression, "I am used to being surrounded by my sisters and well..." she shrugs, "I miss the company."

Bruce can see right through her flimsy excuse, Diana knows that, but he simply nods and scoots over on the couch. With a vague gesture, he says, "Have a seat."

She curls up on the opposite end of the couch from him, "thank you."

He nods at her and they sit in silence for a while, neither one ready for sleep.

A clap of thunder makes Bruce jolt, his thigh twitching. Diana bites the inside of her cheek. She tries to remember what she read about Bruce. Had it been raining the night his parents were killed?

Bruce yawns. It's contagious and Diana's jaw creaks as it opens wide.

"Sorry," she murmurs, when he looks at her.

"You should sleep," he says. "Flight to Smallville in the morning."

"I know," Diana returns. "You should sleep as well."

Bruce shrugs, "I don't sleep much."

"I figured," Diana lets out a small laugh. "Anyone who takes up a bat as their mantel must like the night. And being awake at night means they don't like sleep."

Bruce looks at her sideways. She smiles serenely.

"I think," Diana says, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders tighter, "that you need more sleep."

Her words carry weight and they both know she's not just talking about sleep.

"That your professional opinion?" Bruce asks, amused.

Diana shrugs. "Professional or not, it is my opinion."

"Point taken," Bruce chuckles. He doesn't make a move to leave the couch, instead curls up a little on the edge. "Good night, Diana."

His eyes close and his face relaxes.

She gives him a soft smile, even though he can't see it, and unfolds her legs from the couch. Once standing, she drapes the blanket over his body.

"Good night, Bruce."

* * *

 _A/N: Another one I've had written for a while and waited to post. I think I'll only be posting on Fridays, since I start law school on Monday and have a full week of classes. It gives me some time to write during the week when I have time._

 _This one takes place right after BvS and I hope I got them down right. Let me know what you think! And as always, I'm open for prompts :)_


	6. Chapter 6

"More more or more less?" Diana asks Bruce, a skeptical twist to her lips.

Bruce winces a little, frowns, "More less."

"He said no," Diana states.

"He said no," Bruce confirms, looking sheepish and contrite and a little frustrated.

Diana turns back to the computer screen where a clip, the only clip they have, of Arthur Curry plays on a loop. She bites her lip; they had been hoping that Curry would be willing to join them. She supposes that after Barry Allen's easy and quick 'yes' they should have anticipated pushback.

"Say something," Bruce voice cuts through her thoughts. "You're getting that judge-y little crease in between your eyebrows."

Diana's hand went to her forehead, fingers poking at skin, "I am not!"

"You are," Bruce smirks a little. "It's the same look you gave me when I drove the car down to the mailbox."

"Because that was simply ridiculous," Diana rolls her eyes just thinking about it. Alfred had been out and Bruce had been expecting...something; she still didn't know exactly what was in the package. So Bruce had climbed into his sports car and driven down the driveway to the mailbox.

"Still," Bruce says, "I know your judgmental looks and I'm getting one right now."

Diana sighs, "I'm not...I don't mean to judge." She wrinkles her nose at Bruce, "How, exactly, did you ask Mr. Curry to join us?"

Bruce is silent for a beat too long before he jumps up from his chair and says, "Are you hungry? I'm hungry. I'm going to find Alfred."

"Bruce." Diana says his name with all the authority of a princess and he stops in his tracks. He winces before turning to face her.

"Yes?"

She points at his recently vacated seat, "Sit. And tell me everything."

Bruce sits and tells her everything.

"And then I may have said 'I hear you can talk to fish'," Bruce sighs, feeling just a little bit like a chastised child under Diana's glare.

Something clicks in her head, "And that's where he threw you against the wall and why you're all bruised up."

It's not a question, but Bruce nods his head anyway in confirmation.

"Did you smirk at him?" Diana asks, "Like you smirked at me?"

Bruce's silence is all the answer Diana needs. She throws up her hands and shouts in frustration.

"Hera, Bruce! This is why we can not form a team!" She doesn't quite reach a yelling volume, but she's still terrifying.

"We are lucky that Barry is...well, Barry! Curry and Stone are not going to join us if you keep provoking them!"

Bruce opens his mouth to answer, but Diana cuts him off, "You're the one who approached _me_ to create a team. How is it that you're the one sabotaging it now?"

There really isn't a way to defend himself, Bruce realizes. He had provoked Curry with his quip. He hadn't deserved being thrown against a wall, he thinks, but the unceremonious removal from the ramshackle bar had been deserved.

"It's not on purpose," Bruce says finally, caving to Diana's expectant look.

"Alfred was right about you," She mutters, rolling her eyes. She pushes away from the desk and stands up, "I am going to talk to Arthur Curry. I don't know why I did not go in he first place since I am the one with diplomacy skills."

She tightens her ponytail and strides from the Cave, a woman on a mission.

"Wait! What did Alfred say about me?" Bruce calls after her.

A slamming door is Diana's only response.

* * *

 _A/N: I'm sorry for the delay! I've been a crazy person with law school. I was trying to get on some kind of posting schedule but life seems to have different ideas. I've had this written for a while._

 _This one was a prompt from jokerangwriter on tumblr. I'm not sure if this is exactly what you had in mind, but I hope you like it anyway!_

 _As always, I'm open for prompts and general chatter :)_


	7. Chapter 7

Gotham had been going through the coldest winter in recent memory. Bruce was sure it had never been this cold in his lifetime. Diana cursed her armor daily; it protected her, but didn't keep her warm.

Clark, mother hen that he was, worried about her health. He reminded her to keep her exposure to the elements minimal and to immediately warm up when she got back to the BatCave. Diana always laughed at his fussing with a smile on her face. Sometimes it was nice to have friends that were concerned about her, especially after she had spent so much time alone. However, she was a goddess and didn't have to worry about getting sick. It was Bruce that she worried about.

He barely knew his limits on a good day and with the weather becoming frigid and icy, he wasn't easing up on his patrols. If anything, Diana thought he was going out to the Gotham rooftops even more. His suit was well insulated, she knew, but that wouldn't help him if he were so exhausted his defenses were worn down from the inside.

"Do you think it is smart to go out on patrol again?" she asked him now, ankles crossed delicately under the control table. She leaned her chin on her palm and fixed a glare on her lover.

Bruce fixed her with his own look, confusion creasing his forehead. "Yes?" he replied, not sure what she was getting at. He was mostly dressed in the Bat Suit, cowl in his hands waiting to be put on.

"You have been out nearly every day this week," Diana said. "It is not spring out there."

"I'm not going to get sick, Princess," Bruce smirked, kissing the side of her head briefly before pulling the cowl over his face. "Nice of you to worry though," his voice was distorted now and faded as he strode out to the ramp for the Batmobile.

"Famous last words," Diana muttered wryly. She turned towards the monitors and watched as Bruce sped out into the cold Gotham night.

* * *

"Don't say it," Bruce rasped. He was hunched over at the kitchen table, a mug of steaming tea wrapped in his large hands. He sipped at it, pulling a scowl at the taste.

"I was not going to say anything," Diana murmured, a mischievous twinkle in her eye as she set a plate of toast and bowl of soup down on the table. She folded her legs under her as she sat in the chair across from Bruce. "Eat up," she nudged the bowl closer to him.

Bruce heaved a sigh that turned into a deep, raspy cough. Diana winced in sympathy and procured a handful of wrapped cough drops from her sweater's pocket. Bruce took one gratefully and sucked on it miserably.

"Eat," Diana said again. "I even put honey on the toast."

"I'm not five," Bruce grumbled, but picked up the toast and took a huge bite anyway.

"Of course not," Diana stood up and ran her hand through Bruce's hair. "But you should go take a nap. It will help you feel better."

"But..." Bruce started to protest.

"Save it, Wayne," Diana grinned. "You are my patient now and doctor's orders are soup and a nap."

"Yes, ma'am," Bruce huffed affectionately. He'd deny it if ever accused, but he did love being taken care of by Diana. It made him feel human.

* * *

 _A/N: This is a request from an anonymous reviewer named Chrissy. It's super short and I'm sorry about that, but law school and finals suck up literally all of my time and this was about all I could handle right now! As usual, I'm always open to prompts, so hit me up with a review and let me know what you think! :)_


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